In my time of quarter life crisis, I have a new found passion for creative writing and story-telling. But I am far from being a writer, I have not even written anything concrete yet. It’s not that I don’t have ideas, I have them, but unfortunately they come only in few rare and fleeting moments. These creative outbursts of ideas happen most of the times while I am commuting.
I travel to and from my office, in my scooter, a Honda Dio, which is in matte grey. Sixteen months ago, I cashed out all the money that I had saved up from my first work. I put 60% of the total cost, and my parents helped with the rest. After my smartphone, this was the second thing I purchased from the money that I saved. My scooter and I have sustained many bruises, and shared many beautiful memories. We have suffered the Gurkha Earthquake that left my country with devastation. I have carpooled people during the “crisis” due to India-blockade. And the best ones are the times when I could ride the scooter with no interference and feel the wind in my hair.
I travel about 14 km everyday, which takes about 40 minutes in normal traffic and about 90 minutes in a heavy one. And for god knows why this is the only time of day, that I have found myself to be the most creative. In these exceptional hours, I have had the utmost vivid imaginations and prodigious ideas. But before I can make any note of them I would have already forgotten about them. Yet, on the rare occasions when I have made note of them, they are just mere shadows of what I intended to write.
As Khaled Hosseini, author of The Kite Runner said “You write because you have an idea in your mind that feels so genuine, so important, so true. And yet, by the time this idea passes through the different filters of your mind, and into your hand, and onto the page or computer screen—it becomes distorted, and it’s been diminished. The writing you end up with is an approximation, if you’re lucky, of whatever it was you really wanted to say.”